


Gingerella: A Totally Metal Tale Of Beautiful People, Disaster Gays, and Heartwarming Self-Discovery

by casstayinmyass



Series: The Unholy Trifecta Of Satanic Crack (Keep Out Of Reach Of Children) [2]
Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Ozzy Osbourne (Musician), Rob Zombie (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Alternate Universe - Crack, As My Mental Health Continues To Deteriorate, Cinderella Elements, Communism, Crack, Crossdressing, Disney, F/M, Golden Age Of Grotesque Era, Goths, He Said The Word Marxism In That Midnight Blue Interview And I Took It The Wrong Way, Just Know This Is How The Current Line-up Came About, M/M, Ouija, Ozzy Is Ozzy, Ozzy's Actual Kids Don't Exist In This, Pogo Is Suddenly Obsessed With Marxism In This, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Sequel, Song Lyrics, The Next Time You Go To A Zombie Concert, The Revenge of David Letterman, You'll Get More Of These
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 14:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21076766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: A beautiful retelling of a classic fairytale.





	Gingerella: A Totally Metal Tale Of Beautiful People, Disaster Gays, and Heartwarming Self-Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Well back on my bullshit again folks
> 
> Also I know you didn't need credit but thanks to lazerlust for enabling me and creating this to celebrate this trainwreck: https://lazerlust.tumblr.com/post/188383842129/yall-dont-get-an-explanation

It was a sullen day at the Marilyn Mansion in the kingdom of Ozzfest. Everything was black: Marilyn had painted the walls black last week in a manic episode of hard boiled rage. He had also taped used condoms and bags of cocaine to the walls, and written song lyrics out. It looked like a serial killer's mansion. The rest of the family just went along with it, because Marilyn was the head of their household, and if you didn't like his interior decoration, you would get the guillotine.

At that hilltop mansion, lived a young drummer man who spent his days staring out the window. He wasn't quite sure what he was staring at, but it felt meaningful, so he stared. He lived with two evil stepsisters and a mother, but none of them were actually related. Yeah.

"GINGERELLA!" Manson screamed through an amplified megaphone. The head of Disney, like Roy or Ron Disney or something, came out and slapped him with a lawsuit.

"That's illegal to use that name."

Manson punched him so hard his teeth evacuated. "Stop DISCRIMINATING AGAINST ME, you FUCKING FASCIST!"

"Oh my mistake," Ron Disney said through his toothless mouth, and respectfully left. Ginger turned and watched the staircase shake as his evil stepmanson came pounding down them in 24 inch black platform boots. 

"GINGER!"

"Yes?" Ginger replied softly. He wanted to continue staring out the window at nothing. It made him sad that he was interrupted.

"Stop staring out the window at nothing," Marilyn snapped, climbing down off the towering height of his platform boots. Each day they got one inch higher. They were basically just stilts at this point.

"Can't help it," Ginger sighed, "I'm looking for something that I can't see with my eyes today."

"Yeah, okay. Holy shit. It astounds me that you say shit like that while completely sober." To prove his point, he took out a bottle of mansinthe from his pantyhose, chugged it, and smashed the bottle on his chest.

"UGHHHHHHHAhhahhH!"

They both turned to the staircase, where Twiggy was tumbling down like a tumbleweed. Twiggy was one of Ginger's evil stepsisters, though he was more... aloof, than evil. "Ugh," he repeated with an adorable little pout, and Ginger knew he was obligated to ask what was wrong.

"What's up, Twigs?"

"The cat threw up all over my favorite pink dress," Twiggy croaked. Marilyn took an eyebrow pencil, drew on eyebrows, raised one, then scrubbed them off again.

"My darling Lily White would never do such a thing. Except that she would. Are you sure it wasn't you?" 

Twiggy considered this. "Uh. No, I'm not sure. I'll go check the sexurity cam."

"Mmkay," Marilyn rasped, flicking his tongue at the little ragdoll spoop. Just then, the other evil stepsister, Pogo, came HURDLING down the banister. I mean, he was travelling at the speed of fucking light. ADHD gives you wiiiings.

"Gotta go FAST!" baldboi shouted, and zipped off the edge of the banister so fast that he went crashing through the ceiling. Marilyn sighed, and went back to arguing with Ginger about... something.

"Anyway, it's not good for your health to be looking out that window all day," he said to Ginger. Ginger watched him hypocritically chug another bottle of absinthe as he said this, but this time before he could smash it, three little birdies came and flew away with the empty bottle. No more chest scars today Sir.

"I'm back," said Pogo, parachuting down through the hole in their house, "So hey, everyone, I got good news."

"T W I G G Y!" Marilyn metal screamed so loud that the mansion shook. Twiggy melted downstairs.

"Whaaaaat?" he replied, staring at a single speck of dust floating by him. Pogo ran by him and ate it.

"Pogo's got news. Shut the fuck up and listen."

"I wasn't--"

"So guys, there's uhhh there's this really cool..." Pogo stopped, and stared at a worm crawling along the floor for 30 minutes. Then he resumed. "--thing going on at the palace tonight that I heard about!"

Ginger looked up hopefully. The palace. He loved to dream about the palace. Prince John 5 lived there... he was a beautiful blonde rockstar. Since he was a rockstar, they must have really cool things there that he could drum on like radiators and stuff. It was cold in this mansion.

"Oh yeah?" Marilyn asked, dribbling out radioactive bat sludge to cover his lips. "What kind of thing?"

"Marxism."

"Pogo no," Twiggy whispered.

"Actually wait, it's the Headbanger's Ball. Yeah, the Prince or something, that blonde dude who's the son of king stoner man, is gonna get buried *married, he's looking for a random person to hook himself up with and like... live with forever and stuff. Pretty rad. Death to the bourgeoisie."

"Why do you insist on pushing communist ideology in this fairytale?" Manson demanded, "When you blatantly agreed that the theme of my current album is, to put it lightly, not that?"

While his stepsisters were fighting, Ginger's eyes widened as he thought of this ball. It was like a dream come true. He could show John 5 his drumming skills, and John 5 would propose, and--

"But I have so much to do," Twiggy sniffed, "I have to finish drawing inappropriate tattooes on my Bratz dolls upstairs."

"I'm busy too," Pogo stated. He didn't elaborate.

"AwwwWWWWW **_FUCK IIIIIIIT_**!" Manson screeched, and they launched into an impromptu performance of Irresponsible Hate Anthem. When they were done, Marilyn looked at the time. "Alright, what the fuck are we waiting for?! Twiggy get up, you're going man-hunting tonight with your sister!"

Ginger's face fell. Marilyn only used the singular of sister. There was no S. "What about me?" Ginger asked hopefully, "Can I go?"

The three turned to him, and Twiggy and Marilyn started laughing. Pogo didn't laugh at first, because he was probably the nicest to Ginger out of the three, but Marilyn started glaring at him, so he laughed too. "You can clean the barf off my dress while I'm gone," Twiggy told Ginger, then threw up again on his shoes. Ginger looked down sadly.

"Okay. Sounds good."

Marilyn got back up onto his stilts and led Twiggy and Pogo to the stairs. "Let's go, lesbians, let's go!"

* * *

"But dad, I don't want to get married." Prince John 5 lay on the ground of the royal palace, staring up at the frescos depicting his family as gods and shit. He started playing Enter Sandman on his guitar, but he did it better than Metallica did. His little vampire brother, Piggy D, was out "rescuing" black cats (stealing them from witches) in the kingdom for the day, so it was just him at home with his royal parents and his 37 hairless cats. 

"Don't you fucking know how marriage works, m'boy?" King Ozzy of Ozzfest replied. He looked down at his son, and then to his wife. "Sha... Sharon, how does it work?"

"Oi Ozzy, ya fucking knocker, WE'RE married," Sharon called back. She was busy online shopping for new family jewels from Martha Stewart dot com because Ozzy blew up their royal vaults by accident while toasted on blender fumes.

"There you have it eh," Ozzy said to John. He shook around in his chair suspiciously, as if an earthquake had just occurred. There was no earthquake. John just sighed, stopping the strumming. He was finished playing his guitar, so he devoured it, and got another one out.

"I just..." He started casually playing Duality by Slipknot, "I don't want to do anything except play guitar."

"Which is exactly why you have to find a suitable partner. To continue the family line," Ozzy told him, then nodded off on his throne. He woke back up quickly. "--Because you can't father babies with a f u c k i n g _guitar_!"

John looked down at his guitar, and stroked the strings over its pretty hole. He was sure he could if he tried hard enough. "Please don't give him any ideas, dear," Sharon called, "Fuck sake."

John levitated up like a monk, going over to look out the window. Somewhere, in that little town, lived a man or woman who would become his bride or groom. That was a terrifying, yet somewhat comforting thought. _Maybe they liked cats. That would be nice. It would be even better if they liked drums._  
_Yeah, _John thought, smiling,_ if I could only find a drummer. I don't want to marry another guitarist... or a bassist, or a singer, or a keyboardist, or anything. A wild at heart drummer is what I need, to compliment my sound and my heart._

Just then, half the wall caved in, and a car swerved through the palace ballroom. John turned, Ozzy woke up, and Sharon blasted out of the back room.

"Who's at the door?" Ozzy jolted, looking around at his half destroyed ballroom, and John's cool uncle, Rob Zombie, got out of his Dragula.

"Sorry, Oz. Think I dug through your ditches a little too hard," he winced.

"That's what she said!" John giggled.

"That's... that's alright. Just don't burn through any of my witches, like last time!" King Ozzy wagged his finger in Rob's face. Rob took off his aviator sunglasses. Ozzy started to salivate because he loved sunglasses. Then good ol knighted uncle Sir Robivicus Zombert gave John a fist bump.

"Why'd you come all the way out here, man?" John grinned.

"Hey, I heard my favourite nephew is gettin' married! Wouldn't miss that for the world!"

"You brought presents!" Sharon shrieked.

"Oh yeah!" Rob ricocheted over to his Dragula. "That there's a demonoid phenomenon."

"GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!" Sharon screamed. Piggy, where he had just come in, stopped at the door, taking off his vampire mask.

"What did I do?" He was covered in 15 black cats crawling all over him. John's hairless cats immediately disliked the black cats, and they started a war like the one from Return of the King. Nobody noticed.

"I didn't mean you, sweetheart," Sharon assured Piggy.

"Who're you?" Ozzy asked.

"That's your son," Sharon told him.

"I'ven't got a son."

"You have two." 

John smiled a little, tuning out his dysfunctional rockstar family and now dreaming of his future partner that he could welcome into said family. Cause what's better than playing guitar 24/7 by yourself? Playing guitar 24/7 with someone to listen to it!

* * *

Marilyn helped Twiggy smudge his purple lipstick, and helped Pogo with his eyebrows.  
"Should I go for slightly annoyed, or GREAT VENGEANCE AND FUUURIOUS ANGER?" Pogo asked, and both Twiggy and Marilyn agreed on the latter. It made him look more sexually dangerous. Pogo drew his eyebrows on an extremely steep tilt to show he was very annoyed indeed, and presented himself dramatically. He looked like an angry Volleyball.

Twiggy clapped over zealously, until all his fingers had snapped off. There was one single finger left. He bit it off, then tried to use it to finger himself, but it was too small to do anything, so he just pouted.

"Okay, one last thing," Marilyn stepped between the two in front of the mirror. He took out a wand, which was actually a riding crop he had used on Johnny Depp's sunbunt left ass cheek, and waved it around. Then he said, "Bippity boppity dope show," and 16 lines of cocaine appeared in front of them. Twiggy started drooling. Manson shoved Twiggy out of the way though and yeeted Pogo out the window. His drugs. _Hiiiisss_.

* * *

15 hours later, Ginger looked up the stairs to find that his stepfamily was ready. Pogo walked through the door, one of his mad eyebrows skewed from the violent yeeting from the tenth story mansion window. He straightened his rainbow coloured clown tie, and sniffed in a Shakespearean manner.

"I hardly appreciate being yote in that fashion."

"Suck my ASSHOLE Pogo!" Manson gave him the finger. Pogo opted not to, and instead joined him and Twiggy at the top of the stairs to make their grand entrance to the one person who was currently watching them: poor Ginger. Glamorous by Fergie was playing on a boom box being held up by the sweet, the dazzling, the devine feline Lily White, (who had for the purpose of our lovely fairytale, morphed into Pope Francis for the time being).

Twiggy had on his black High End Of Low Pyramid Head costume. Pogo had on red Lederhosen and he had dyed his tongue rainbow. Marilyn had on a bald cap and had done himself up like the Beautiful People music video, so he was now on ten foot stilts with goggles and a big beige skirt. He liked to feel Tall even though he was already Tall.

"You all look so nice," Ginger cried. His tears started a flood that flowed down to the palace. Ozzy drank it, saving everybody in the kingdom's lives. Yay Ozzy.

"We know we're fabulous," Twiggy hissed. They all started to leave as Pope Francis ran outside and revved his sick limo.

Ginger decided to try one last time."Please, can I please go to the Headbanger's Ball with you?"

The three glam rockers turned around, and laughed like bitchy goth mean girls. "Going to the ball is not in your future!" Manson began rubbing Pogo's bald head like a crystal ball. Pogo had an orgasm because his head had the same pleasure receptors as his dick. Marilyn made a face, and let go. He then decided Pogo would look better with a mohawk, and dumped some miracle gro on his head, growing a platinum blonde fucking spike.

"Please?" Ginger whispered.

Marilyn removed a mic stand from his ass, and whipped it back, accidentally knocking Ginger out with it.

"Oh no, oh, I totally didn't mean to do that," Marilyn looked around shiftily, then the three got into the limo. Marilyn couldn't fit because of his stilts, so he sat on top, lighting a giant wooden cross on fire and screaming to everyone they drove by: "REPEEEEENT!"

Billy Corgan came out of a local pub, raising his pint Marilyn's way. "That's what I'm talking about!"

Then they pulled up at the Headbanger's Ball, the limo bumping like the Tainted Love music video. When Marilyn got out, he completely changed his look because it didn't suit his promotional image. He drenched himself in paint, stuffed contacts and a grill in, and stuck mouse ears on. [Ah, this abomination.](https://s3-eu-west-1.amazonaws.com/s3-helnwein-images-bucket/1132/RAW)

The three burst in, and Manson did the Pennywise jig. "ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS READY FOR THE NEW SHIT?!" he shouted. Everybody turned to him. They had walked into the wrong castle; these people were having a funeral.

"How disrespectful," an old woman muttered.

"Oh dear, a mouse," another said. An old man behind her gave the devil horn rock on symbol.

* * *

Prince John 5 looked at himself in the mirror, admiring his pimp-like purple velvet suit and sunhat. "Playa," he whispered to himself, shooting finger guns at the mirror.

"You look fucking Bada$$, man," Rob said, popping out of his closet and naruto running toward John while screaming. John jumped, then sighed.

"Oh. Ha, thanks." A hairless cat climbed out of his hair. "I don't feel good."

"Ah you're just nervous. Also, I think Ozzy may have put pills filled with pure gasoline in all the alcohol tonight, so that might be why."  
John dropped his glass of wine.

"Why would he-- nevermind." He collected himself. Time to go downstairs. He played a riff on his guitar as he walked down the steps.

It was time. Husbando time.

* * *

Ginger opened his eyes, groaning as he came to. He didn't remember anything that had happened, other than being hit with a mic stand. He didn't even remember who he wa-- syke, wrong love story.

"What am I gonna do now?" he muttered, looking out the window at the glittering palace in the distance. He started to drum sadly on the window, until it turned into a full blown drum solo. When he was done, a voice behind him startled him.

"Woah, man. Nice rythym. Almost sounds like MY style-- ohohoho." He winked.

Ginger turned, and through his floppy brown shards of hair falling into his eyes, he saw...

"Who are you?" he frowned. He literally didn't recognize this guy at all. He was about the same height as Ginger, but his reddish hair was long, and he had a beard that was braided with a bunch more tiny beards. He wore a baseball cap with a loose, faded muscle shirt that read "Zombie", and his face was painted white with an inverted black cross.

"I don't know man, who are you?" the guy laughed. Then he had an epiphany. "Oh! Oh, oh nonono, I'm Kenny Wilson, man, Ginger Fish."

"No... I'm Ginger Fish," Ginger continued to frown.

"Nah but I'm you from the future," the guy grinned. "Or I mean, the present, because this is kinda past, but not for you. But it will be. When you're me." He took out a box of Halloween chocolates and jammed it in his mouth, wrappers and all.

"But you can't be me," Ginger sniffled, "You seem so happy, and self-assured... and cool."

"Oh man hahaha, this is what happens if you get to that ball tonight." Older Ginger's smile got bigger, so big that he broke a hole in the plaster walls. Manson will be angry. "I can't tell you anything else or I'll mess with the space time continuum, but I can help you get ready."

So, in a flash from one of Older Ginger's drumsticks, Younger Ginger had blonde highlights in his hair, gold sparkly eyeshadow, gold tights, platform boots, and a stylish black scarf. His lips were done in a shiny pearl pink, and he honestly just looked like an absolute queen, like he did during Holy Wood. Fucking beautiful. An icon, to be honest. Wish I could've been there.

"Ooooh my god so cool," Older Ginger grinned, and peaced out back to the future. Younger Ginger blinked, and he was suddenly at the gates of the royal palace. The reason why Older Ginger was able to apparate and such is because back in his Manson days, roughly Antichrist Superstar era, the band sold their soul to Satan to have time travelling powers. It's okay cause Manson is fuck buddies with Satan anyway, so he can just get their souls back whenever he gives a particularly good blow job. "Oh oh hey wait!" Older Ginger appeared again, and handed Younger Ginger his drumsticks. "These'll give you the confidence you'll need to snatch your spooky man!"

"Wow. Thanks, older me," he whispered.

* * *

Inside the Headbanger's Ball, Twiggy was perched on the staircase ledge like a gargoyle, Pogo was doing cartwheels around a ouijia board trying to summon Anton LaVey, and Manson was currently trying to solicit sexual favours to Sir Keanu Reeves, who was actually pretty receptive to it. Ozzy was humming to himself, then he looked up over his sunglasses.

"What are all these fucking people doing here? SHAROOON!"

"It's okay Ozzy," Sharon said beside him, patting his shoulders soothingly, "Just smile and wave." Manson approached them, ripping off his suit so that he was just in a black light reflective speedo.

"Heeeey," he winked, wiggling his tongue at them.

"Hello darling," Sharon smiled. She still wanted to fuck him.

"So Oz, how's your son doing?" Manson dug a little, leaning against Ozzy's throne and inconspicuously rubbing his cock to keep Sharon distracted, "Has he got a thing for bald guys? Long dreads and dresses? Total airheads? What's his thing?"

Ozzy leaned in. "I've got a few choice words to describe my son, but I'm afraid they're not very nice."

Manson shrugged. "It's a dirty word REICH say what you like."

Ozzy frowned. "Reich?"

"Yeah."

"Was that a... a verbal tick?"

"No, it's a song. Carry on."

"Well to be honest Marilyn, John is a little bit fucking obsessed with guitars if you ask me," Ozzy whispered, "And I don't just think it's a phase. He's been like this since he was 4 weeks old..."

"Ah, uh huh uh huh, so he likes the boys in the band," Manson smirked, adjusting his mouse ears smugly. He counted that as an absolute win for his pseudo children.

"For some fucking reason, he's got it in his head that what he wants is a dr--"

"RISE AGAIN FROM THE ASHES, DARK LORD!" Pogo shouted, lighting the Ouija board on fire. Twiggy got naked and started a ritualistic dance around the board. Ozzy leaned in again.

"Those aren't... yours, are they?" Manson shook his head.

"No."

Outside, Ginger bit his nails nervously. Should he really do this? COULD he really do this???? Then he heard our collective voices in his head.

_Yes. Fuck yea. Get that John 5 dick Kenny._

John ran into Twiggy, who was perched again on the ledge at the top of the staircase, on his way down from the bathroom. John had just taken a big 15 minute long shit, and couldn't walk properly now because he ate spicy beans for breakfast.

"Hey," he said, rubbing his fiery butthole in pain. Twiggy was so startled that someone was speaking to him that he almost toppled off the ledge.

"Hi."

"Wild, huh?"

"Yeah, so wild..."

"I don't even know why anyone would want to marry me, you know?" John sighed, "This is so stressful."

Twiggy finally looked over to see who he was talking to.

"Oh. You the Prince dude?"

"Yep."

"Oh I think I'm supposed to be courting you and stuff. Manson wanted me to."

"Oh." They both nodded awkwardly.

"Yeah. Anyway, good party, man. Mmm... could do with some whiskey and speed though." Twiggy stared off into space again, and John frowned, continuing his walk down into the ball. _Weird guy._

Danzig's bus driver, Tony Wiggins, was now trying to snort Manson's eyelashes off, cause sometimes it be like that, but John looked elsewhere. He saw a perfectly respectable looking young fellow in the corner having a conversation with himself, so he decided to go try over there.

"Hey," John sat down beside him. The guy pulled out some exotic weed and started smoking it.

"Hey, man. I'm Pogo."

"Poo, hi. I'm John."

"It's Pogo."

"Oh yeah, forgot the g. Sorry."

"Just want to let you know, I'd make an amazing husband. Want some bribery weed?"

"Sure, man."

John smoked some, then Pogo grew three more heads and his eyes began to split into kaleidoscopic atoms. John looked down at the suspicious joint. Yeah, this wasn't weed.

"So this is Anton," Pogo introduced John to his invisible friend, "He wrote the Satanic Bible, and would you believe it? He actually answered my call this time." He gestured down to the ouijia board.

"Sweet," John said, and quickly got up. Big Nope. But then... "Hey... are you a drummer by any chance?"

"Nope. Keyboardist."

So John left, shaking off the LSD pot, and Manson came lumbering over, pulling out all his medical fetish accessories and pelting them at Pogo.

"WhAt DiD yOu SaY tO hIm????"

"I don't know, I said I summoned the founder of the Church of Satan!"

_"AFTER THAT!"_

"I said I played the keyboard! He wanted to know if I was a drummer, I said no..."

"Drums," Manson narrowed his creepy Mickey Mouse eyes, "So that's his thing. He wants drums shoved up his ass during sex? That's what he's gonna get. Say you play the drums. SAY IT! **T W I G G Y**!!!"

As John was being pursued by a very drunk Alice Cooper, Ginger pushed open the huge golden doors with freakish strength.

"It's GOD!" Twiggy blurted, and evaporated into the atmosphere.

Omēga, standing there in a pink miniskirt, inspected their nails and rolled their eyes bitchily. "Twiggy, everybody knows god is in the TV. DUH." They pelted a TV off the landing, and it fell and killed Wiggins.

"NOOO WIGGINS!" Twiggy rematerialized and sobbed. Anton LaVey went over and started resurrecting him.

Alas though-- it was Ginger at the door.

"Is that Jesus?" Ozzy asked. Sharon clutched her heart and hugged him. "It may very well be, Ozzy, ya fucking titface."

"How?!?!?!" Manson growled. He got so mad that he spit really violently, and the spit ball flew into Ozzy's eye so forcefully that it blinded him. Then Marilyn used all the air in his lungs to suck the spit ball back into his mouth so there would be no evidence.  
John immediately looked over to the door, and gasped princely.

"What's your name, fair beauty?"

"Ginger," Ginger smirked, sucking in his cheekbones. He had Confidence tonight baby, YEAH BABY YEAH.

"Ginger," John repeated, starstruck. "Do you like Creature From The Black Lagoon?"

"It's one of my favorite movies." 

John nearly nutted. "Can you play the drums?"

"You bet I can!" Ginger snapped, and a drumset appeared.

"Grr, baby. Very grr," John smirked. John then took out his guitar, neither of them ever breaking eye contact, and they began to play together. It was so sweet... so metal... so fucking hardcore... that everyone in the room began to bang their heads... except Marilyn.

"No," the jealous frontman hissed, "NOOOOO!" He then struck a match, and lit the drum set on fire, causing a panic. Someone had to tell Twiggy to stop staring at the fire and run.

John looked around in the commotion, but the mysterious beauty queen had fled. He looked down, and picked up a single drumstick that had been left behind. "Ginger? GINGEEEER!!!" he called in anguish, then he turned into a werewolf. Now we don't have time to unpack all that.

* * *

The next day, Ginger had been locked in the attic at the mansion. His hair was back to normal, no makeup left, and his drab old clothes were back on. He looked like a burlap sack had sex with a hairless gorilla, which is a very unfortunate mental image.

News that John 5 was travelling the kingdom in search of his drummer and partner-to-be had reached them all, and Manson was determined to make either one of his boys fit that bill.

"Now," he said, to the tune of Phantom of the Opera, "Drum FOR ME!"

"Ahhhhhh, ahhhh, ahhhhh!" Twiggy began to sing operatically like Christine Daae, and he had a beautiful soprano voice, but Manson angrily stitched a metal bar over his mouth.  
Pogo took the stick he had been handed, and tried to drum the Exorcist theme. He failed.  
Twiggy took the stick he had been handed, and used it to pick his nose.

Marilyn held his head in his hands. Hopeless. Hopeless idiots.

Ginger listened to them try up in the attic. Then, sadly, he heard the doorbell go. That was it, then. He'd be stuck here forever, never to rock out with his John again.

"It is I, Twink Prince Juan Cinco of Ozzfest!" John entered, brushing back his blonde hair in a sweeping motion. He looked even more like a pimp today, dressed in a leapord print pantsuit with glitter eyeliner. "I seek Ginger!"

"Isn't that so funny haha cause both their names are Ginger," Marilyn smiled charmingly, jamming his blue eye contact back in so hard it popped his eyeball. John wiped the blood and eyeball fluid off his cape, and frowned at the two.

"Oh, I remember you two. Pogo, and... you."

"No no no, they're Gingers. See? Play," Marilyn told the boys. John shrugged, and handed Pogo the drumstick. Pogo tried his best, he really did, but he seriously fucking sucked. Twiggy took the drumstick, and tossed it up into the rafters, watching it snap into three pieces.

"No," John vegan to cry, (you know what he's vegan irl so I'm not even gonna correct that typo) "Now I'll never find my Ginger!"

Manson stared at John, and his remaining eye welled up. He then looked up at the staircase, and thought of Ginger locked away. What would he gain from keeping the two apart? Another Romeo and Juliet situation on his hands? He may be the Antichrist, but he was also the God of Fuck, and God, he wanted these two to Fuck.

"Gingeeeerrr," Manson sobbed, bounding up the stairs. He ran past Omēga, who was smoking a cigarette on the stairs like an angsty teen.

"Hey," they grumbled.

"Hey sweetheart, bad time, we'll catch up later, okay?" Manson leapt over his alien cousin like Peter Rabbit. He felt so bad about what he had done. In fact he had been a pretty huge asshole this entire week, and finally his conscience was like _bitch you thought._

"Okay Ginger come down, holy fucking jesus. HEAR THAT BAPTISTS????? I HAVE MORALS YOU PRUDE FUCKS©!"

"Lies! Filthy satanist!" the protesters that lived on his lawn shouted up.

Manson unlocked the door, and Ginger came out to find John. They embraced, and Ginger produced the other drumstick he still had. He perfectly drummed Ging Gang Gong De Do Gong De Laga Raga, and everyone cried happily.

"We shall be married in the morning!" Prince John called. Manson cried with his step children, because they'd never be kings.

"Why be kings when we can be... space ghosts?" Twiggy cackled evilly.

"Scapegoats," Pogo corrected, and Twiggy looked clinically depressed, as if Pogo had just run over his puppy.

"Mmmmmm," he sobbed, "Sure."

A lightning bolt cracked down as the three laughed and laughed, hatching their next evil plans of ghostliness and goats in space..........

Until the doorbell rang, and in stepped David Letterman. "You are a fucking joke," he told Marilyn Manson.

"HOW DID YOU FIND ME YOU BELLIGERENT DEMON?!" Marilyn chopped him in half with a garden rake and tossed his remains out for the protesters to feed upon.

And thus, Ginger joined with John and his little brother Piggy D who has been forgotten this entire story, (**love u Matt sorry**) to create a hella cool band with John's uncle Rob, and they lived out their days as happily married rockstars.

King Ozzy's kingdom of Ozzfest was subsequently taken over by John's hairless goblin cats, who staged an uprising. Ozzy was too fried to notice. He took Sharon, ran off to the enchanted woods and just became the Wizard of Ozzy, basically the Wizard of Oz but a lot more terrifying. Queen Sharon... just let it all happen at this point.

Anyway, back to the moral of the story: *Dr. Seuss voice* Rock on, my dudes. Don't ever let Marilyn Manson lock you in an attic and tell you you can't marry John 5. Peace.


End file.
